


old fashioned

by vaenire



Series: twins prequel maybe [2]
Category: xXx (Movies)
Genre: Budding Love, First Kiss, M/M, Romance isn't dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 08:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaenire/pseuds/vaenire
Summary: Xiang had expected it to be awkward, for this new dynamic to make their seamless comradery awkward or halting, but their dinner (date) went off without a hitch. He didn’t call it a “date” in his mind, because the idea of dating-- let alone going on a date with Xander-- felt too rusty. That’s something Xiang did thirty years ago, not now as a ranking agent. Certainly not with a fellow agent. God forbid with Xander.But there they were. In a semi-nice restaurant, in the back corner, Xiang resisting gulping down the wine that the waiter brought for him, telling stories he’d never thought about in years-- and Xander listened with rapt attention.Xander wanted to walk him home after dinner. He didn’t say so, but the way their conversation refused to taper after they’d paid and left the table said it for him. They slipped into an easy stroll, muscle memory guiding their way.////solo fic butpart of the same universe as ''the kicker''





	old fashioned

Xiang had expected it to be awkward, for this new dynamic to make their seamless comradery awkward or halting, but their dinner (date) went off without a hitch. He didn’t call it a “date” in his mind, the idea of dating-- let alone going on a date with  _ Xander _ \-- felt too rusty. That’s something Xiang did thirty years ago, not  _ now _ as a ranking agent. Certainly not with a fellow agent. God forbid with  _ Xander _ . 

But there they were. In a semi-nice restaurant, in the back corner, Xiang resisting gulping down the wine that the waiter brought for him, telling stories he’d never thought about in years-- and Xander listened with rapt attention, and Xiang never wanted to give that attention up. 

Xander wanted to walk him home after dinner. He didn’t say so, but the way their conversation refused to taper after they’d paid and left the table said it for him. They slipped into an easy stroll, muscle memory guiding their way. 

They came up on Xiang’s safe house apartment step before Xander even realized-- he could barely even remember what they talked about on the way. He made Xiang laugh a few times, and that was strange in itself. He’d known he was sweet under it all, but he didn’t expect that to surface on the first date. He was nervous, he wanted to say something as they stood on his doorstep and muddled through a goodbye. 

“So,” Xiang said, eyeing the apartment’s keypad but not moving to punch his code in. 

“So,” Xander echoed. After a moment of silence, Xander added, “I had fun.” 

Xiang squinted at him. He shrugged, agreeing without being too outwardly enthused. “So we’re going to do this.” It  _ almost _ sounded like a question. 

“This? Like dating?” Xander tried to tease clarification out of him. “I’m down if you are.” 

Xiang raised his brows the slightest amount possible and pursed half his mouth into a frown. He glanced at the keypad again. 

“It's just,” he said, pausing, “It's been awhile. I might be a little old fashioned about it all.”

Xander tilted his head back, scrutinizing Xiang with raised brows and a half smile. “Old fashioned?” He leaned his forearm against the door jam, leaning into Xiang’s space, electrifying it. “In that case,” he said, leaning ever closer, “Can I kiss you?” 

Xiang, old fashioned and ever cool, reeled back, face burning slightly. “Uh,” he said. “Yeah.” 

Xander brought his other hand up, slow and measured, and cupped Xiang’s cheek. He leaned in, closing his eyes a few inches short of contact, but Xiang stayed just as he was, eyes wide. 

Xander pressed close slowly, Xiang closing his eyes only when Xander was too close to focus on any longer. Belatedly, Xiang unclenched his teeth, not even realizing he’d clenched them in the first place. He tilted his head to meet Xander more comfortably. Not until Xander was pulling back did Xiang consider moving closer. 

Xander pulled three inches back, eyes hooded. Xiang took a long moment before opening his eyes to look at him, Xander’s hand warm on his cheek and the center of Xiang’s attention. He almost flinched when Xander ran a thumb over his cheek bone, how foreign it felt. 

Xiang wanted to apologize-- that was probably the worst kiss he’d given anyone since he was a teenager. “I haven’t done this,” he started. “For twenty years.” He winced. 

Xander quirked a smile-- soft, not laughing at him. Kind. Fond. He raised a brow, too.

“I mean, like before, it’s been awhile. I’ve hooked up with people but this whole slow this-- it’s good. It’s different.” Xiang snapped his mouth shut. 

Xander ran his thumb over Xiang’s cheek again, his other hand finding Xiang’s forearm, running down to his wrist and rubbed his other thumb over the back of Xiang’s hand. Xiang could distinctly feel his own heartbeat hoarse against wherever Xander touched him. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve taken it slow,” Xander said, his voice low so Xiang had to lean in to hear. “Shit, I  _ want  _ to sleep with you, but I  _ don’t _ want to tonight. I mean, I  _ want _ to but I…” He trailed off, tongue tying himself.    
“Don’t want this to just be a hookup,” Xiang supplied, his own voice softening, matching Xander. 

“Exactly.” 

“At risk of sounding, uh,” Xander said, grinning his awkward half-grin, “whatever, can I kiss you again?” 

Xiang swallowed, nodded halfway before surging up himself to kiss Xander, his hand wrapping around the back of his head. He parted his lips slightly, feeling just a bit more in control of himself than during the first kiss. Xander slid a hand over his lower back, pulling Xiang inches closer and Xiang instinctively restinga hand on his chest. It was a heady rush, Xander’s shaved hair prickling under one hand while he felt the smooth swell of his muscle under the other. Xander teased Xiang’s lower lip with teeth and the barest suggestion of tongue, having Xiang lean in further. 

Xander swiped his tongue in Xiang’s mouth, just tracing the inside of his lower lip before pulling back. He grinned at Xiang, who returned it with a feeble smile and wide eyes, slowly taking his hands back. Xiang wet his lip absently, containing the blush when Xander watched the movement closely. 

He breathed a laugh-- at himself or at Xander, he wasn’t sure-- and broke the eye contact that had started to feel like too much. He glanced at the street, suddenly aware that anyone could’ve walked past and seen them. 

It was either time to say goodbye or move away from prying eyes. 

“Do you want to come inside?” he asked. He immediately winced at the double entendre, adding, “For tea.” He winced again for good measure, training his eyes away from Xander and the smirk he knew was on his face. 

He didn’t need to see the smirk to hear it in Xander’s voice. “Sure. For tea.” 

Xiang shot a glare at his tease, turning away to punch in the front door code. He pushed the door open for Xander, who waited for Xiang to enter before slinging an arm over his shoulder, walking in stride to the elevator. Xiang had to check himself for the way his back stiffened. 

After a second of sitting in the awkward feeling that Xander’s arm gave him, Xiang put his arm around Xander’s waist. He caught the anxious feeling of dread, that a neighbor could see them when they came out of the elevator, but brushed it aside. 

He unlocked the safehouse door, turning the light on and immediately rethinking whether he should’ve invited Xander up. He wasn’t a messy person, but the room begged to differ-- and it was an unusually small space, too, which only exacerbated it. 

He picked up the dirty plate left on the small, round “dining table” and threw it in the sink, waving his hand for Xander to sit at one of the two chairs that fit at the little table. He grabbed the lunch box from the counter and threw it onto the table, quickly grabbing the old aluminum kettle from one of the cabinets and filling it with water, starting up the old gas stove and getting the water started. 

Back stiff again, Xiang sat at the other seat and unzipped the lunch box, pulling out the various glassware all stacked inside each other. Xander watched with some interest as he set out the four mismatching glass tea cups, unfolding the tea towel and setting two of the cups aside. The clay teapot came out next, and glass pitcher last. He pulled out the three little plastic bags of tea from the elastic mesh inside the lunchbox’s lid. 

“What kind of tea?” Xiang asked, looking at Xander for the first time since the hallway. 

Xander’s brows were raised, evidently lost. “I don’t drink caffeine.” 

Xiang had to raise a brow at that. “None?” 

Xander shrugged, “I swore it off when I was younger, turns out I’m sensitive to it, now.” 

Xiang frowned. “You had soda at the restaurant.” 

He just shrugged. Xiang rolled his eyes. “I have chamomile tea bags.” Xander grinned in response. Rolling his eyes again for good measure, Xiang stood to grab a mug and the tea bags, handing them over to Xander. He went back to the kitchen once more, grabbing the hot water off the stove and turning it off. 

Xander held out his mug and Xiang filled it before he set the kettle down, carefully choosing between his teas before pulling the black one open. It was a five inch wide piece of a tea cake, pressed tight and wrapped in thin paper, and Xander watched him break a piece of it off and throw it in the teapot. He filled it with hot water, plopping the lid back on and getting up to pour the first steep in the sink. 

“Why’d you do that?” Xander asked as he sat back down. 

Xiang shrugged, “Never drink the first round,” he said, opening the pot back up and peering at the leaves, observing how they had loosened and opened. The smell hit Xiang, and he closed his eyes for a second. It was cheap tea, and the smell was relatively weak, but maybe that’s what was so charming about this one. 

When he opened his eyes again, Xander was staring at him over the top of his mug. Quickly, he looked back at his steaming mug, casually asking, “What kind is that?” 

Xiang refilled the pot. “Puer.” 

“Oh,” Xander said, obviously not familiar with it. 

“It’s pressed like that to ferment, like wine,” he explained. “There’s a lot of variation, but I love the woodsy ones. This one’s only three years old, but it’s artificially ripened.” He cut himself off, glancing up at Xander. He was going on too long. 

But Xander was listening with rapt attention as Xiang poured the tea into the glass pitcher. It was thick and dark, too dark to see through. 

“Looks like coffee,” Xander commented. 

Xiang smiled, pouring a little bit into his favorite little cup. He let it sit, cooling, and refilled the teapot. Then he threw back the first cup like a shot. 

Xander stared at him with wide eyes. “This water’s fucking hot, how’d you…?” 

“Weak,” Xiang said simply, pouring himself another cup. 

Xander scoffed, genuinely offended, and finally took a sip of his tea. He all but yelped, breathing through his mouth to try to cool it off. 

Xiang, smug, threw back the next cup. “Pouring it from the kettle to the pot, pot to pitcher, pitcher to cup-- that all cools the water off. Thought you were the clever one.” 

Xander, in too much pain to protest that, stuck his hand in his mouth in desperation to find some reprieve. Xiang tipped his head back and laughed, louder than he’d intended, earning a pout from Xander, who leaned back in his chair to deal with the pain. 

Still laughing, Xiang got up and grabbed a glass, filling it up in the sink for him. Xander took it gratefully. 

“I didn’t hear your explanation at all. This is fucking  _ boiling _ .” 

Xiang grinned ear to ear, laughs puffing out him like he was being punched-- “Yeah, it is.” He poured himself another cup and threw it back. 

Leaning his elbows on the table, Xander leaned forward, setting his mug aside. He was peering at Xiang, but Xiang didn’t look up from his concentration on the next round of tea he was making himself. He was certain that Xander was trying to get his attention so he could pout about the burn some more. 

When Xiang poured himself another cup, though, and brought it up to drink, looking over the rim of it smugly, Xander wasn’t pouting. 

He was watching Xiang’s hands carefully, closely. 

“What?” Xiang asked sharply. 

Xander shrugged, shaking his head. “I honestly didn’t take you as a tea person.” 

Xiang scoffed. “Back in the…” he started, hesitating, “In the ops, I’d spend almost all my discretionary money on tea.” He looked at Xander, smiling at the surprise. “They grow it where I’m from.”

Xander digested this thoughtfully, but didn’t press for more information-- Xiang had never talked about home around anyone related to work-- just as Xander didn’t-- and they respected that about each other. Maybe that’s why Xiang continued. 

“My first job was in a tea factory.” 

Xander smiled wide at that. “My first job was bussing tables at a diner.” 

Xiang took the lid off his teapot and smelled it. “I was a waiter at a restaurant when I first got out of the military.” The aroma was thick and deep, stronger than the tea itself. 

Xander tilted his head at that. He  _ wanted _ to ask now, and Xiang respected him for resisting the urge. “Can I smell?” he asked instead, leaning forward for Xiang to waft the lid under his nose. He frowned at it. “It’s sweeter than I expected.” 

The tea had a note of vanilla or something sweet, not something Xiang usually liked in his tea but this one balanced it well. Xander’s astuteness would be interesting to throw some different teas at, if he just wasn’t so stubborn about his beverages. 

“So what is it about you and… ‘substances’?” he said, creasing his voice with laughter to make up for the awkward wording-- what other word could possibly cover alcohol, tobacco and  _ caffeine _ altogether? Xander returned the laugh, rolling his eyes. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, smile settling to half his mouth, eyes on the teapot. “I just got a bad history with it.” 

Addict then. Interesting. 

“I got a bad history, too,” Xiang laughed. 

Xander returned the smile, sipping again. His eyes crinkled at the corner. 

Another cup of tea, lightening in color to a deep amber. He observed Xander from beneath his eyelashes: soft jawline, round nose, crooked smile on his lips. Xiang wiped a stray drop of tea off his mouth, tracking how Xander’s eyes followed and settled on his lips. 

Xander had kind eyes, Xiang noted. His cheeks had deep smile lines, matching the crinkles by his eyes. And he kept up with Xiang, maybe even surpassed him sometimes, in some aspects during missions. And he was fun, and funny, and it didn’t hurt just how massive he was. Not for what Xiang was concerned with. 

Xander stood slowly, letting Xiang protest if he wanted as he came around the small table and looming over Xiang. He rested his hand on the table beside Xiang’s teacup. Xiang watched his hand come up, brushing hair off Xiang’s forehead and then run the back of one finger down over his cheekbone. Xiang suppressed the way a shiver ran down his spine at the touch, just looking back at Xander with little reaction. 

Bracing his other hand on the back of Xiang’s chair, he leaned down. His eyes still intently on Xiang’s mouth, he tilted his head as he closed in. Under some compulsion, Xiang lifted his hand to Xander’s jaw, cupping it. Xander paused, reassessing, before smiling. Xiang pulled him the rest of the way down into the kiss, other hand landing on his hip and thumb slipping under the hem, mouth parting his mouth to let Xander lick inside. Licking over his lower teeth, inside his lips. He coaxed Xiang’s tongue into his own mouth, sucking and groaning when Xiang slid his hand around his lower back and pulled him closer, making him lean one knee on Xiang’s chair. 

Xander’s thick fingers slid through Xiang’s hair, massaging his scalp lightly. He slit his eyes, leaning back into the pressure and giving Xander the space to squeeze in between his chair and the table, adjusting his knees to place one on Xiang’s chair between his legs. Xiang laid his hands on Xander’s hips, smoothing them up and under his shirt and feeling his warm, taut skin. His skin was soft, and he smoothed his thumbs over where he knew his lion and tiger tattoos were; more supple than what he expected. His hand continued up over the curve of his ribcage, his abdominals flexing under his palms. 

Xander pulled out from the kiss, resting his forehead against his, biting his lip and making Xiang go cross-eyed just a bit. 

“Woodsy,” he said, his voice raspy and deep, sending shivers down Xiang’s spine anew. “I see what you mean.” 

Xiang scoffed, his cheeks burning, surely evident to Xander where his hand stayed on Xiang’s cheek. Xander pressed in for a second only, wet and deep and leaving the ghost of a nip on his lower lip. He moved to back off of Xiang’s chair, but Xiang’s grip on his hip and back tightened, keeping him in place. Smiling at him, Xander pressed another kiss to Xiang’s forehead, lingering. 

“I was just going to move to the couch,” Xander said near his temple. 

“Mmm,” Xiang said. “Good idea.” Especially when he heard how Xander’s knee creaked as he finally pulled away, holding out his hand to Xiang. He snubbed it first, but then thought better; he took it, and Xander pulled him to his feet so they were nearly chest to chest. 

He threaded his hands through his hair again, more intimate for being so much closer. Xiang felt the way his breathes deepened, all the more conscientious of how he tilted his head into Xander’s hand. Patiently, he waited for Xander to lean in for another kiss. 

When neither of them moved, he furrowed his brows. Xander was just looking at him, looking through him perhaps. 

“What?” he asked softly. 

“I…” Xander started, eyes flitting from Xiang’s eyes, to his mouth, to the table behind him, back to Xiang’s face. “I don’t want to sleep with you--” he said, “tonight.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to sleep with you  _ tonight _ .” 

Brows shooting up, Xiang didn’t say anything. 

“By that I mean,” Xander continued frantically, “I want to sleep with you. A lot. I really want to sleep with you but not tonight. Because I’d like to, uh,” his eyes glanced around again nervously. 

Xiang laid his hand on Xander’s chest. “Go slow.” 

Xander breathed deeply. “Yeah. But I still wanna…” he trailed off again, licking his lips. 

Xiang surged into his space. He pressed his mouth to Xander’s, fast and messy and insistent until Xander was taking a step back, opening his mouth, fingers gripping in Xiang’s hair again. Xiang’s arms grabbed what he could, his hip and his bicep and squeezing. 

Seeing Xander caught off guard, visibly out of his element like this was a rare treat. He made a squawk of sorts in the back of his throat when Xiang started guiding him backward to the couch without pausing for a breath. 

His knees hit the couch and he stumbled for a second before Xiang pushed him down to sit. He thought about following him down to straddle him, but thought better. He curled one leg underneath himself, sitting on the couch next to Xander and facing him. His ankle hooked under his own thigh and his knee resting just over the side of Xander’s thigh. Xiang braced his bent elbow over the back of the couch.

Xander was smiling at him. He put his hand on Xiang’s knee, running his thumb over it. 

“You wanna know something embarrassing?” Xander asked, fascinated by his own hand on Xiang. He had a little smile on his face, and when Xiang licked his lips he could taste the floral sweetness of Xander’s tea. Xiang nodded. “Well, when I was thinking about trying to make a move, I asked Serena if you liked me.” 

A laugh bubbled up in Xiang’s throat before he suppressed it. “You asked Serena if I liked you?” Xiang asked again. Xander rolled his eyes, nodding. “And what did she say?” 

“She told me you might like me. But she wasn’t gonna say anything firm in case it backfired on me.” 

“When’d you ask her?” 

Xander put one hand over his eyes, leaning his head back to think. “A month ago?” 

Xiang squinted at him. “That’s quite a while,” he said. “I talked to Serena about a month and a half ago,” he admitted, “And I asked if you liked men. She gave a firm yes to me.” 

Xander peaked out from under his hand. He blinked. “So she knew you--” he started. 

“Yeah, she knew.” 

Xander grimaced, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I guess that’s what I get for asking my ex, right?” 

Xiang gave a half shrug and an amused smile. 

“We figured it out eventually anyway.” 

Xander looked at him, the hint of a smile spreading slow and sweet like molasses: first he squinted one eye, tightening his lips on that side before the corners of his mouth pulled apart, the smile lines on his cheeks and and under his eyes deepening. Xiang wanted to touch those lines, so he did. 

Xander blinked when Xiang touched his fingertips to the plane of his cheek, his smile relaxing and Xander’s brows pinching at him with the suggestion of a question. 

Xiang’s resting face, his concentrated face, he knew could come off as severe. And he was concentrating right now on his hand on Xander’s face. He blinked, shook his head, gave a little smile and pulled his hand back. Xander’s hand, large and warm and calloused-- yet notably not as calloused as Xiang’s-- folded over his before he could. 

“When do you wanna do this again?” 

Xiang blinked at the question; it sounded so final, like Xander was ready to get up and go home. Of course, logically, that  _ would _ happen, he just wasn’t expecting it quite yet. 

He blinked again. “I got my call from Gibbons today. I fly out tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” Xander said. His hand hesitated on Xiang’s, before wrapping around it and pulling it away, turning to kiss his palm. 

Xiang swallowed, hit by how fast Xander was going to tangle him up in this relationship. He looked away, back at the table they’d left in such a hurry. Thinking about going out with Xander again tomorrow or the next day, getting dinner or going to a beach or renting skis or anything-- it excited Xiang. It made him feel energized, and wary of that same energy; it made him ache about leaving tomorrow and not knowing when they’d both be able to go and do any of the daydreams that passed through his head at the speed of light as Xander kissed down his wrist. 

“What are you thinking about?” Xander asked, pausing his lips just shy of Xiang’s bold ‘8’ tattoo. Xiang swallowed, curling his hand to cup Xander’s jaw. He sighed. 

Xiang couldn’t express what he was thinking, the thought of trying a touch too intense-- he pulled his hand to himself, out of Xander’s grasp. 

He shook his head, rubbing a finger over his brow. “I don’t know.” He shook his head again. “This is all… strange.” He saw concern flit across Xander’s face, so he quickly followed up: “Not bad-- not in a bad way, I mean.” Xiang chewed his lip, looked at the wall opposite Xander and back at him. He rubbed the back of his head vigorously. 

“No, no, I get it,” Xander said. His hand came up toward Xiang’s face, slow so he could dodge. He didn’t move an inch as Xander grabbed his chin with thumb and forefinger, making them look straight at each other. Xander was leaning in, too, eyes hooded, and Xiang’s breath left like he’d been hit with a cold breeze. “I feel it, too.” Xiang gulped air into his lungs. Xander smirked: “We’re from the same fabric, you and me. Feels different for me, too.” 

Xander leaned in then and caught him in a kiss-- slow and easy, all lips sliding and nipping while Xiang’s head spun. He could sense himself leaning in, leaning into Xander’s space and bracing a hand on Xander’s thigh while Xander’s arm slid under Xiang’s, around his back and enveloping Xiang in his big arms, against his broad chest. He didn’t know when he closed his eyes-- somewhere between when Xander sucked his lower lip into his mouth and the all but unrecognizable sound Xiang released, probably. 

Xiang didn’t open his eyes when Xander broke the kiss. He couldn’t, not yet. He knew Xander was watching him expectantly, arm still in place around his back and hand still on his chin. He relished the moment, the warmth radiating off of Xander and the closeness of their bodies, the palpable strength in the arm wrapped around him. There was the scent of chamomile, the sweat that clung to their clothes, the underlying scent of products on Xander’s skin, and a hint of something deep and sweet, sort of a happy medium between a sweet berry and sandalwood. He heard Xander’s breathing, his own breathing, the subtle whine of his shoulder joint as he shifted them just an inch closer, and the little voice in the back of his head that questioned exactly how committed he was to taking it slow. 

“I should probably get going,” Xander said, breath on Xiang’s lips. Xiang’s eyes flew open. 

“Right now?” 

“I mean,” Xander said, shrugging and releasing Xiang, moving slow again as if he was going to spook Xiang. Which, to be fair, maybe he already had. Xiang watched with wide eyes as Xander pressed one more kiss to his lips, took a deep breath, and stood. 

He was halfway to the door before Xiang popped up to his feet and followed. Xander opened the door and paused in the doorjamb to look back at Xiang. He gave a half smile, those lines reappearing. 

“I had fun,” Xander said. 

“Me too.” 

The smile widened, encompassing. Xander squeezed Xiang’s shoulder, leaned in for a quick kiss on the side of Xiang’s head. 

“Till next time.” 

“Yeah,” Xiang said, leaning against the door. Too wistful-- Xiang stood straight again, careful not to be suspicious. Xander spared one last look, an up and down with a sly smile that said  _ I saw that _ , before walking up the hallway and disappearing into the stairwell. 

He closed the door gently, a little ball of anticipation and hope and sickness nestling right behind his sternum. 

“Oh, I’m fucked.” 

**Author's Note:**

> henlo im vaenire and these are my OCs xander and xiang and they are sickly in love from the very beginning uwu <3 <3


End file.
